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THE WANDERER'S CHRONICLE Guy Cherqui Lucerne Festival 2004 |
We are always astonished by the purity of Maurizio Pollini’s sound and by his touch: every note is detached, separated from the rest, but at the same time there is never the impression of a “staccato”, but rather the feeling of a permanent link between the phrases. Perhaps he has in common with Claudio Abbado this concern to make audible every note of every instrument without however giving the impression of splitting anything up. On the contrary, he continously wants us to hear and see the architecture of the whole work – dare I call it “architexture”! -. What is so thrilling too (although at the same time surprising) is the paradox of an artist whose playing is proverbially restrained (a moderation some consider as cold) and yet who conjures up emotion as if it were completely pure music which was suddenly taking shape under his fingers. Like Pierre Boulez (he too considered to be a cold artist), Pollini seems to create the conditions of aesthetic emotion in letting us hear the simple notes, without ornamentation and which just speak for themselves. At any rate, Pollini is to the piano what Boulez is to the orchestra: rigorous, never letting himself go, but at the same time very intense and extremely honest. In the 4th concerto precisely Pollini establishes straight away a degree of concentration (notably in the 2nd movement where his final cadence changes the colour of the work) such as to create a special tension which takes the listener right into the heart of the piece. The orchestra, which never acts merely as an accompanist, without any doubt really accompanies this movement. The way in which (at rehearsals and in the concert) the musicians listen to the soloist makes you think more of chamber music where everybody listens to one another. We know about the radical change Beethoven has been subjected to by Abbado since 2000: more energetic, contrasted, essential, with less musicians, but also more trenchant as well as more Dionysiac. The orchestra is an actor in its own right and not only an inevitable appendix to the piano. On the contrary it is its continuation. Suffice it to hear, after the piano beginning, how the musicians attack the first movement, without any breaking away of the soloist. As if it was the piano itself which was fracturing these many sounds. This special way which piano and orchestra have of plaiting, embracing, weaving together the cloth is what enthrals. There is no head-on dialogue but a choir of two voices which one after the other pick up the tune. This is what we will retain from this exceptional evening: a sort of total synergy in the chosen tempi, in the mutual listening, in the “Zusammenmusizieren”. It is a way of making music together which implicates all the musicians: there is no soloist any more, no orchestra, there is only one single body which produces a transparent, urgent, essential Beethoven. For the greater part of the normal public Mahler’s 5th symphony is first and foremost the famous adagietto immortalized by Visconti’s “Death in Venise”. Observing Abbado during the rehearsals and in performance, listening to the symphony as a whole, we are stunned by its complexity. Its rigorous construction makes the Scherzo the keystone of the whole. In this context the adagietto becomes something very special, splendid but also somehow out of line. This adagietto seems like a movement hanging in the air in the midst of a storm. Apollo enters into the realm of Dionysus. It is no coincidence that Abbado requested to have included in the programme the beginning of the adagietto taken from Willem Mengelberg’s personal score. The latter explains that this movement is an act of love on the part of Mahler towards Alma and is not a melancolic movement, contrary to what some might think due to the fact that the key is so close to that of the Lied “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (one of the Rückert Lieder), but is one of pure lyricism. The importance of the harp, Apollonian instrument if ever there was one, is emphasized by it being placed between the violas, the double basses and the cellos (the adagietto being written for harp and strings). It is no coincidence that Abbado invites the musicians to follow its swayings, its crescendos and decrescendos, like for example this final descrescendo which dwindles away, impossible to distinguish it from the beginning of the rondo, the final movement of the symphony, introduced by a timid horn call. Thus the contemplation and the joy of reincarnation, which marks the end of the piece, are intertwinded.The rondo takes up again the adagietto, but in a lighter fashion and opens up like a hymn to refound nature, to art, love, optimism ( a bit strained perhaps?). Moments of joy which recall in a decisive way (colour, instruments, rhythms) the end of the “Meistersinger von Nürnberg” – and so here we are all invited to the “Festwiese”: explosive, full of joy and smiles (you only have to look at the ecstatic conductor). The magic moments of that evening should all be remembered: the first calls of the trumpet, impressive, sumptuous, which gave way to the flute (Jacques Zoon, who makes us forget Pahud!), the pizzicatos (the solo viola..., as if hanging in the air), the end of the second movement and the flabbergasted silence which followed it, the end of the adagietto, which slowly sinks into silence... All these magic moments would not have been possible without the incredible artists which form this orchestra (with a soft spot for the wind and the brass). Stephan Dohr, solo horn of the Berlin Philharmonic, standing during the scherzo where he was incomparable (particularly on the second evening, even more magical), same as Reinhold Friedrich, phenomenal solo trumpet. Was rests to be said about Albrecht Mayer (oboe) or Sabine Meyer (clarinet), perfect as ever... We cannot resist the temptation to name a few more: Marie-Pierre Langlamet (harp), the double basses, all soloists in great German orchestras, led by Alois Posch (Vienna Philharmonic), the cellos led by Natalia Gutman and Franz Bartolomey (Vienna Philharmonic) with a sound so round, so warm, so full. And Raymond Curfs at the timpani... Claudio Abbado is the architect of all this magic: he irradiates the orchestra! Every movement of his hands, every expression on his face, every frown, every smile merits to be described. Because watching him makes everything become so evident and simple. He is the Guide in the most noblest sense of the word. A year ago, confronted with the miracle of the 2nd symphony, we opted for silence. Confronted with the miracle of the 5th this year, we have chosen to explode. We have tried to communicate what seemed to us essential in this performance, tried to share the enthusiasm of the audience and the orchestra, tried to make understood that we, in some way,witnessed the mystic union of Apollo and Dionysus.
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